Liberation

by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)

JAG

Clayton Webb/Harmon Rabb

Rating: adult

Harmon Rabb is taken captive, and Clayton Webb has to get him out.

Disclaimer: The JAG characters belong to Belisarius Productions and CBS. The original characters belong to me.

Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.

Warnings: violence.

Spoilers: Through the JAG episode "Contemptuous Words".

This story is loosely set in Mareen's Equinox universe by her permission. If you haven't read the Equinox stories, you still should be all right with this one. You can read them, though, at either the Unholy Trinity or Mareen's site. Probably best to regard this as an Equinox AU. It was inspired by a scene Mareen wrote, but the scene is not included in my story.

This story was read in progress by some wonderful people: Mareen, Katja, Tinnean, Lexi, Illya, Alexandra, and Athea. They all had good suggestions, not all of which I took. Sorry, and thank you all. Some kind people from the gemstories list read the first three scenes (Karen, Beth, Alex, Mia, Laura, and Page) and said nice things, and I thank them. It was beta'd by Mareen and Katja (early unfinished version), and Scarlet and Elizabeth (final draft).

For Alexandra, on her 26th birthday (March 7, 2002). Yes, I know she's dead. Your point? She wanted this story done, so I finished it for her.

Notes of a personal kind, very rambling:

What I want known right now is that this story is totally, completely, and without any chance of forgiveness Mareen's fault.

I came home from a day with my niece to find this message with an attached file and a cryptic message asking if I'd like to see about writing more. No plot given, no ideas, nothing but Mareen's name and her best smiles. I started a furious message back, asking her what in the world she thought she was trying to do to me... then Harmon Rabb spoke up, quietly and with an edge of panic in his voice, and I was lost and gone.

The commander doesn't always talk to me, but when he does I know enough to listen. That's when he's at his nicest and most honest. That's when he likes me. And I do like when that happens, since he has many, many reasons to freeze me out, my story The Challenge being the most prominent of them. He doesn't seem to hold it against me, but I'm waiting to see what kind of revenge he'll wreak. Probably make me get in an airplane. I can't even manage the big ones without a minor panic attack, and his is a little two seater. I'll die of fright.

I got a scene down, and then a plot came to me, and I typed notes on that and sent the whole thing off to my muse and tormenter and went to bed, happy that I'd solved this burning problem, smug, even. I'd done something to take over the story. It was going to be our first story together, and I'd thought of it.

Then I got up and turned on my computer, and the whole world flipped around.

She had a plot. It wasn't mine. And she was happily telling me to write the story that I'd thought up, without offering any help (cruel, cruel woman). I stared at the screen, then Clark Palmer appeared next to me, and his fingers stroked down my neck. "I want to see what Stone will do," he murmured. "And I really want to see Webb again. You'll do what I ask, won't you?"

It's even worse when Palmer jumps in. He knows my every weakness and enjoys every single one of them. He plays with me. And very well, too, I might add. With more skill than is legal. But why else is he in so many of my stories?

And Tom Stone... he and I go back far enough that I know keeping him happy is a good idea. He's gorgeous, but just about as devious as Palmer. And maybe even more ruthless by this time. I met him when he was at the DSD training center, and he's only gotten better by now. Ask Page Martinez. She spits when she hears his name. But she isn't in this one. Her answer to both Palmer and Stone is a simple one. "Kill them on sight. Or cuff them and give them to me." And that's another story, and a het one, so never mind. *g*

Well, I *warned* people that these notes were personal and strange. *g* You want normal, go read someone else. I haven't been normal for a hell of a long time, don't miss it, either. How can you miss what you've never had?

*****

Webb's never going to let me forget this. That is, if I ever see him again.

I make myself sit up on the cot and touch my head. Nice tender bump, and when I look at my fingers, yes, blood. Whoever got me with that last blow did a great job. And I know that I'm not focusing. The wall looks velvety, and I already felt it to know that it was concrete. I must have a concussion. Great.

My head's throbbing in a good country-western beat, and I wish it would stop. Or that I could just sleep some more, but I know that's out of the question. I hurt too much. My head isn't the only place I got hit. My ribs are sore, and it's hard to breathe. And all I've got on are jeans. No shirt, no shoes, no belt even. My wallet's gone, my watch - everything has been taken away from me. No. I still have myself. That's going to have to be enough.

There's enough light coming in from the high grilled window for me to see that there's a sink in the near corner. Some water on my head and face and down my throat would help. I brace myself against the wall and manage to stand. I almost don't make it, though.

Oh, yes, Clay's going to have a lot of laughs over this one. I should have told him about this. But I thought he knew. I mean, it was a CIA job. I assumed he knew everything that went on in that place.

I'm beginning to wonder if I was wrong about that. I hope not.

Of course, the agent I dealt with told me there was danger. He played it down, though. If that bastard Palmer could see me now - not that I need to think of him - he'd probably accuse me of wanting to be one of the Mission: Impossible guys and say that the only one I'd be able to manage is the bodybuilder. He might be right. I wasn't thinking this time. I should have been suspicious when Jackson told me that I couldn't tell anyone what was going on, not even the admiral. How did he put it? "Only those who need to know will be informed." I was an idiot.

I have to hope that Clay was on that list. I know him. He's a stubborn bastard. He'll know something is wrong when I don't call. But what if he's out of the country? He was talking about something like that the last time I saw him. I was too busy trying to get him to relax and shut up so that we could enjoy ourselves and end up in bed to listen to anything he had to say about work. I don't like hearing about work or talking about it when we're together. We never have enough time, and he worries too much about it. I kept at him, teasing and laughing and making jokes until he relaxed and turned his attention to me, and that was just fine. Great, even. He's fun when he wants to be, when he lets himself be.

Except now I don't know what the hell he's doing. And I haven't seen him since I got recruited for this. So he knows nothing from me.

I get to the sink with the help of that hard wall and find that all it's giving is brown water. I'm not that thirsty, and putting that in my wound will only make it worse. I'll stay bloody a while longer, thanks.

It wasn't supposed to be that difficult. Go to the Wall, something I do all the time, leave a small package on the ground under my father's name, then report back to Agent Jackson. I couldn't even get that done, dammit. I got the package down, but when I got back to the contact point, he was nowhere in sight, and the people who were there beat the shit out of me.

When I woke up, I was here.

I hear someone outside. I want to be ready to attack, but damn, I couldn't fight my way out of a paper bag today. So I settle for sitting up and looking alive. It hurts to do even that. I'm going to need some kind of help, but I wouldn't bet that I'll be getting it.

"Commander." It's a man from the unfamiliar voice, medium height, and a ski mask over his face. I relax a small amount. If he's hiding who he is, then he's thinking about letting me go. Seeing a face, any face, would be very bad news. "Good to see you awake. Some water, perhaps?"

He holds out a bottle, but I don't reach out to take it. This has to be a trick. My father wouldn't take it. Or would he? He'd want me to survive. But not as a traitor or a stooge. And he would never fall for an enemy trick.

"It's not poisoned or drugged, Commander. There's no reason to resort to that. You're in bad enough condition as it is."

I want it so damned much. But I shake my head.

"Suit yourself. I'll just leave it here." He comes a few steps closer and puts it on the bed. "It won't be much longer."

"Why not now?" It's hard to talk. They got in a few blows at my mouth, and it's swollen. Bastards.

"The person who ordered your capture isn't here to take you away yet."

And he just leaves like that. I don't even get another question out.

My capture was ordered. Now I'm sure that this was a set-up. Oh, god. Clay doesn't know a damned thing about this. And that Jackson probably wasn't even CIA. Fuck. Who would want me captured? I have no idea, but clearly someone did.

Clay, damn you, you can laugh at me for the next hundred years. Just be looking. I can't get out of this one myself.

*****

I end up in the office the next morning. Not enough sleep, and I know that it's beginning to show. The coffee isn't doing anything for me now. I'm drinking it just out of habit. Rabb's been missing for more than two days now, and I have to find him.

People try to talk to me, but I know that they know nothing from the look on each one's face, and I ignore them. I don't have time for anything but finding Rabb. And that's all I'm working on, since Chegwidden made a hell of a lot of noise, enough so that the Secretary of the Navy himself insisted that I be put on the case. Under normal circumstances this would be a step down, but I'll fight anyone who tries to take this away from me. I'm glad that I haven't had to. Chegwidden has no idea of just what Rabb and I are to each other - I have to use his last name now, thinking of him as that Harm who laughs before I finish a joke is just too much - but he does want the best to find his missing officer, and that is me.

But I'm getting nowhere. Unacceptable.

The phone rings, and I grab it.

"Webb." I keep things simple. It's better that way.

There's an odd, echoing quality to the connection, and I tense. Something's wrong.

"No luck finding the commander, Mr. Webb?"

I know that I've gone white. This person either knows something or is playing games with me. But there's something in the voice that tells me, just from those words, that there's more to this than just an idle game. I push the button on the phone that will trace the call. Now to keep this idiot on the line long enough.

"No, none." Keep talking, draw it out, get all I can. "Do you have any information for me?"

The voice continues as if I hadn't spoken. Male voice. That I can tell. "Good luck, Mr. Webb. You *will* need it."

The line goes dead. Shit. Not even close to enough time to trace it, and it sounded to me as though he was using something to distort his voice.

I hit the button to play back the tape of the call, then start writing down everything the anonymous caller said, then my thoughts as well, pushing back my emotions with practiced ease. A possible lead. And I have the feeling that this is just the beginning of the calls. A game. I can play games.

Especially if they'll lead me to Rabb. Who is alive. No other outcome is allowed.

*****

The door opens again, and it's the same man, in the same mask. "Time to go, Commander." Two men, also masked, come in, passing him and heading for me. I tense, get ready to spring. "Unless you enjoy being beaten up, I'd advise you to let them prepare you. It'll be much easier for you, and there's no way out of here."

The men stop at the end of the bed when I stand. Like hell I'm letting anyone put me in those handcuffs I see. I can fight. Let them come closer. The adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and I don't feel as bad as I did.

"Never mind those." It's another voice, and the first man is gone. "Just get him. I can handle it from here. The commander will behave himself for me."

And who the fuck is this? Right, I'll behave. Just give me a chance, and I'll beat the shit out of all of them. I have a chance, if I can just avoid these goons.

Which I don't even come to close to doing. They grab me with insulting ease, even though I try to fight, and the third man comes into the rest of the way into the room. I can make out his face fairly well from my position bent back over the bed, and that in and of itself is very bad, since it shows that he doesn't give a damn if I can describe him later, which may mean that there isn't supposed to be a later. I don't recognize him. So much for figuring out motive. Tall, dark hair, and probably thinks he's good-looking. I'm sure he doesn't have any trouble getting dates. Especially if he uses tactics on them like that syringe I see in his hand.

Oh, god. He's going to kill me right here and now. But why take me and put me in this cell if all he wants to do is kill me? No. It has to be more than this.

He smiles at me. Bastard. He's enjoying this. I can tell. I've seen a smile like that before, on Clark Palmer's face, in my kitchen, with me tied to a chair, and him insulting my father's memory, saying he had given in and was living in Smolinsk of all places. Liar. This is another one of those sociopathic bastards, which is more bad news for me.

"This will paralyze you for a short time. You will be able to get enough oxygen if you stay calm. But if you panic, or if I give you too much, you will die," he says pleasantly. The ghost of Palmer is even closer now, making me swallow. "And I do have another dose. So don't make this harder on yourself. The game is still in the flexible stage. I can use you dead just as well as alive, Commander."

I don't want to cooperate with him. Better to die now, fighting against my captors, honorably. Clay would understand. Everyone would. But the men hold me still, and the man calmly leans over and pushes the needle into me, and then I cannot move. I struggle to fight back the panic. I will not panic. I will not lose control.

There's a hand smoothing down my eyelids. His. Terrible intimacy.

"Just relax, Commander. You have no choice. It's all right to lose."

God. I can't stand this. But I can't do anything about it.

"Take him," the voice says tersely, and I'm moving. I feel something warm on my bare chest, and I'm sure that it's that bastard's hand. I'll kill him for treating me so casually. I want to kill him.

I force myself to stay calm, to breathe, to survive. I have to survive.

*****

I stay in the office, getting through paper work and going through files of people who might want some kind of revenge on Rabb. Or on me. There's always that possibility. I have to consider it, even though I don't want to. It is possible that someone could know that he's the way to get to me. For a naval officer who needs to keep this secret or lose that career that means so much to him, Rabb gets the damnedest ideas about going out in the open together and somehow gets me to humor him.

Like the time he stole my clothes. I smile for a moment, remembering. Took my suit, damn him, when I was in the shower and would not say a word to let me know where he'd hidden it, or give it back, even when I used my best sarcasm on him. I ended up in a very conveniently new pair of blue jeans and eating melting ice cream with him a careful distance away on another bench, but I remember that happy smile he had, and I suspect that I had a stupid one, too.

Then I think that I might never see that smile again and start stomping on that thought. He is alive.

The phone rings, and I grab it.

"Webb." But I think I know who's calling. That odd, echoing quality is back. Good. My anonymous tormentor. Knew it wouldn't be long before he needed to show he was in charge.

"I have the commander with me now, Mr. Webb. I know he'd like to see you. Pity that he's not in very good shape, but that's life. Isn't it, Mr. Webb?"

What has this bastard done to Harm? This man is much too satisfied with himself. I've already pushed the button to trace this; hell, I've been pushing it as soon as I pick up on every call. Doesn't hurt. It's an automatic system. I have to do better keeping this idiot on the line this time.

"What do you want for him? Where are you? Who are you?"

No answer this time, either. Sticking to the script. Hmm. Is this a tape? That would explain a lot.

"Why are you looking so hard for him? But I think I know the answer to that. Love, sweet love. Or is it just sex, Mr. Webb?" The laugh that follows this is short. "That I would understand. He is attractive. And so very," pause, "well-behaved once he understands what's expected of him."

I cannot breathe. This is not happening. I did not do this to my friend, to this man I care for. No. No. This is a fucking game.

"Are you sure you have the right man?" I manage after a moment.

"I'm sure. I'll be in touch, Mr. Webb. You can relax. The commander's," very soft laugh, "safe with me."

And he hangs up. This someone is baiting me, and doing so very well indeed.

What is he doing to Harm? What does he want? What can I do?

Nothing. Just wait by this phone for him to call again.

I stand. The hell I'll do that. There are people in this building who get paid serious money to improve our equipment, and I'm going to do some talking to them. I need better tracking, dammit.

I don't know what this bastard is doing to Harm, can't think about that now, or I'll do something to betray everything, but I am going to get him. And if he's lucky, I'll miss when I fire at him.

But I'm not planning to miss.

*****

It's a long way to wherever my kidnapper's taking me. There's a time before the van starts that he's not there, but otherwise he's beside me the whole trip, always touching me somewhere. I know it's him. He keeps stroking me, and I'll be damned if I can understand it, unless he's trying to tell me he grabbed me to have sex with me. If so, it'll be rape. I know what I want and who I want, and this man is not on that list.

The vehicle stops, and I'm lifted again. His hand rests on my right thigh, and I try to move, once again, just as I've been trying. And this time, finally, my ring finger moves.

"Faster," he says calmly, and I know he's not talking to me. "We're almost there, Commander. I'll give you the antidote soon. Just remember, it's all right not to fight me. I told you: you can't win. And there's no shame in surrendering to a superior force. They must have taught you that at Annapolis."

I can't move my mouth to answer, but he seems to know what I'd say.

"Ah, you're a stubborn one." There's pleasure in his voice, goddammit. "But you'll learn."

I'm being lowered to a firm surface, then there are no hands on me.

"Well, I do hate to see you suffer like this, especially since I see that they got very enthusiastic with their beating, but this is the best I can do for now. I can tell that you don't like the drug's effects."

I feel the stab of a needle in my right thigh, through my pants. When I try to move again, I can.

I sit up and take deep breaths, then I hear a laugh and look over to the door. The idiotic asshole is still there, leaning against the frame, tall and cocky and absolutely takeable. I can feel the smile split my face as I get up and head toward him. He doesn't move at all. He's waiting for me. I don't care.

And then something electric and painful brushes my chest, and I can't stop my jerk back. Damn. What the hell is this?

He laughs again. "Ah, Commander, you are a joy. I was betting with my associate whether or not you'd do that. He said you'd figure out there had to be a reason I would trust myself in the same room with you, but I told him that you were a fighter, and fighters always go for the chance. Thank you so much for proving me right." He tilts his head up to glance at a camera that's mounted over the door. "See, Jack?" A name. That was careless. "I told you. I'll collect my beer later, over dinner."

I swallow. That casual mention of food tells me that I'm hungry. I push it away and try to figure out how I can tell where this electric barrier is. I need to know. I sniff, but I can't smell it. I can't see anything that looks like it, either, even when I'm looking where I know it should be. I know I don't know that much about spook technology, but this would get Clay narrowing his eyes and thinking hard and probably finding something I'm missing. Damn. I don't need to think about him now. I have to be strong.

His eyes are smiling at me. "Oh, don't worry, Commander. You'll be fed. But not until I have what I want."

"What the hell is that?" My voice is raspy, and I try to clear it.

"Not sex, Commander. Don't worry. Your honor is safe with me." There's a long pause, and I know he has more to say, from the look in his eyes. "That is, if you still have any."

I'm about to snap something back at him when I remember Clay telling me that the last thing to do if someone accused me of being gay was to take it seriously. I force a laugh.

"Questioning my honor? There's no need for that."

"As you say, Commander." The way he says my rank is so offhand and derogatory that it makes me want to go at him again. But it would be useless, and I control myself. I have to stay alive. With honor, always, but no one has demanded that I do anything that would betray that. "Now strip out of those pants."

That is not going to happen. I'm sure he can tell that from my eyes, but I want to make damned sure that he gets the message.

"No."

"I can make this much more difficult for you if you won't cooperate," he says quietly.

He comes over toward me, a device in his hand with buttons that he's pushing. After a few steps I'm brushed by that electric current again and have to retreat. And the closer he gets, the more I'm pressed back until I'm trapped up against the wall, and I can feel that damned barrier. It's not painful, but it wouldn't take much to get it too close.

"Is this how you want to spend your time here, Commander? Think about it. Sooner or later you'll have to move, and then you'll be in pain again. And this is the low setting. Think about that, too." He waits, but I'm not answering. "Just take off the pants." There's suddenly a simple human weariness to his voice. "No one's interested in your body. You can believe that. Either you take them off, or I pin you here until you agree. And that's really going to waste both of our time."

I hate giving in.

"You can put them back on in a short time." He's talking to me as though I were a child who doesn't understand that the toy planes will be there after dinner. I used to be that kind of child. "I'm going to give you a little room. Either take off the pants, or I'll dial it up and trap you again. Be reasonable."

The current is gone as he backs away, and I reach for the button at my waist. He says nothing as I strip out of them and drop them on the bed, near me. Now I'm naked. I hate this.

"Stand right where you are. All right, quarter turn. Back to me. Another quarter turn."

I don't see any flashes, but I'm fairly certain that the point of this exercise is pictures. All right, he wants pictures of a naked man with some bruises. Now, why would that be, Rabb? To send to people to prove he has me. I really hope that Mac doesn't end up seeing these, or Harriet. I don't want either of them upset. Actually, I can't think of anyone that I'd want to see these. Definitely not Clay.

And then I realize something and open my mouth. He speaks first.

"You can put your pants on again, Commander. I told you your honor was safe."

I get into them as I ask my question. "How long have I been a prisoner?" Keep it military, keep it safe.

"Ah, I was wondering if you were going to figure that out." He's very pleased with himself now. "Over two days, Commander."

The admiral's got to be furious with me, and Mac has to be worried. Everyone's got to be worried by now. They have to know I'm gone.

"They are looking for you, Commander; you don't have to worry that you're not loved," the amused voice breaks in. This bastard is reminding me more and more of Clark Palmer. But Palmer's in Leavenworth. Or, god, did he escape? This has to be him.

"Palmer, you bastard, this game is even more insane than what you usually pull." I go up right to where I can feel the charge of the barrier against my skin. "I know it's you."

He laughs. "No, I'm not Clark Palmer, but thank you for the compliment. Tell me, what made you think I was him?"

I would never say that as a compliment. "I'm not falling for that line. Take off the fake face, damn you. Now."

He frowns. "Commander, you have to stop getting so upset. It's not good for you. Here. See for yourself." He reaches down and pulls, but nothing comes off, then he tugs at his cheeks for good measure. "This is my face. No one else's."

"Who are you?" It isn't Palmer, but someone who idolizes him. I'm not sure my position has improved.

"Ah, of course. Names, although they're not going to help you. It's been years since either of us used these. I'm Tom Stone, and my associate is Jack Kelleher. Perhaps you'll met him later, although he is out of town at the moment, and we'd planned to keep it that way." He must see the question in my eyes, because he smiles again. "The beer was a joke, Commander. Jack owes me so many beers by now that he'd be better off investing in a brewery. Hell, that might just be what he's doing. He's not watching now, but he'll have the tape for when he has a free moment. I'll edit it to make sure he sees all the good parts, although I doubt Jack's going to be tempted by you."

I do not believe this. "Why do you have me here?" Might as well start with the questions, since he seems to be willing to talk. He might let something slip that will help me.

"Commander, you don't need to know that." He's still smiling. "All you need to know is that if you behave yourself, and if," his smile spreads, "Mr. Webb is as intelligent as I think he is, you'll be fine."

"Webb?" Shit. I don't want Clay involved in anything this guy is in. "What's Webb got to do with this?"

"Commander." His eyes move up and down me. Damn him. "We both know what Clayton Webb is to you."

My friend. What we do in bed is our business, and I'm not going to give this man anything.

"You seem to have some idea what you're talking about. I don't."

"That's all right, Commander. It's not important that you tell me the truth about this. I know it, you know it, and Clayton Webb knows it. And he's already doing everything he can to find you." He pauses, and I tell myself that there is no way in hell that Clay's going to play along with this man, unless he thinks he can outplay him. "I've spoken with him, told him you're safe." He laughs. "I hope he believes me. He's been looking very hard for you, Harm."

"You have no right to use my name," I say very coldly.

"You are stubborn. But then why else were you stupid enough to get in Mr. Palmer's way?"

I want to know why Palmer's so important to this guy. "How do you know Clark Palmer?"

"Ah, Commander, if you can't figure that out, I don't think I'm interested in telling you. Perhaps I'll be in a better mood later. But you should really relax. You're safe here. I told Mr. Webb as much." His smile is getting on my nerves. "I even reassured him that you were behaving properly. Of course, he may have taken that wrong. I think he did. But I'm sure he'll forgive you." Soft, caressing voice, but it's not working on me. He really thinks he's something. "You can use this time to think about ways to make up for all the trouble you're putting Mr. Webb through if you ever get the chance. I'm sure he'd like that."

"Clayton Webb is my friend. That's why he's looking for me. I don't know what else you could mean."

"You know very well what I mean, Commander. But, as I said, it doesn't matter if you tell me the truth." He straightens, and I hope this means he's going to leave. "I know the truth. And so do you. If you're sitting on the bed when I get back, I'll see that you get some dinner. Be sure to wash up first. But don't get any stupid ideas. I'm a very good shot."

He smiles at me again, this time with what I'm sure is pity, although I don't need it, and leaves.

This man is playing games with me and Clay because of Palmer. Is he a friend of Palmer's? I would never have believed Clark Palmer would have friends. It's strange how he speaks of Palmer. I don't get it yet. I hope Clay can find a way to stop him.

I go over to the sink and wash my face and hands, then dry off with the coarse towel. I put it back on the rack, then look at the bed, which is pushed up against the far wall. It's not going to help if I let myself get weak. I need to be ready if something gives.

I sit on the bed, trying not to think about anything but getting out of here.

*****

I cannot believe that those idiots in Research haven't been working on better tracking. It's insane. Well, they are now. I hope they come up with something in time to help me. I sit down at my desk before I let myself look at my phone. No messages.

I decide that playing this game the way Rabb's kidnappers want me to is not going to happen. They think they know me? They don't. But I will know them.

Harm. I can't think about him now. I've got to find the way to win this game, before it blows up. That guy wants something. I concentrate, but still nothing.

I wish I had more clues. I tell myself that it's only a matter of time, but this is making me uneasy. This person knows what he's doing. I have to hope he screws up, but if he does, it could end up with Harm dead. I can't wish for that. All right. Start thinking about ransom. He wants something, and it has to do with... I don't know. Damn. I'm back to basics. Either it's one of Rabb's cases, or something out of my past. And the worst thing is that this person at the very least suspects us of having exactly the kind of relationship we do. I hope he isn't talking to Harm about that. Harm won't like anyone knowing that he and I are involved, and he won't enjoy the way this person is talking about it.

When there's a knock on the door, I'm relieved by the interruption. I motion the man in.

"These just came for you. The messenger said that they were top priority, needed to go right to you. We've got him here, but so far nothing."

I'm ripping open the envelope. God. Harm. Naked, bruised, and beaten. He has to be in pain. What the fuck have they done to him? No. I can't think that way. This is Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., and I have orders to locate and rescue him. That is all I know. All I will let myself think about now. That, and that I will find him alive.

I look at the man who brought up the pictures. "Let me know what you find out."

He nods and leaves. People are being very quick to get away from me right now. I must look like some kind of avenging angel or insane person. I'd bet on the second one.

I make myself look at the pictures again. He's angry. Good. But he needs to be careful. This is a deliberate campaign, and I'm sure that whoever's running it has a plan for him if he gets too troublesome. I have to get him back.

The phone rings. I don't snatch it up this time. Let the bastard wait.

I manage three rings before I grab the receiver.

"Mr. Webb." I think it's the same voice, but the echoing quality is gone. "I can't believe it took you that long to answer the phone. Can it be that you don't give a damn about the commander any longer? Or are you just busy trying to find a way to track me?"

"What do you want?" I don't have time for these games.

"I want you to figure out the game, Mr. Webb." He's talking this time. That's a change. Why isn't he distorting his voice? Because for some reason, he doesn't care if we know who he is. I'm not sure that's good, unless he's getting careless, which could be good. "I was just telling Commander Rabb that I was sure you would, that he was safe as long as you were as intelligent as I thought you were. Did you like the pictures?" Gloating is the only word for his tone now. "Handsome man, the commander. And funny, too. I am enjoying his company, more than I expected to. If you ever get tired of him, I'm sure I can find some use for him. That is, if you ever get him back."

I know Harm. He's not letting anyone else fuck him. Hell, it takes a lot of time to get him hot enough to let *me* do that. I hope this man is the type who wants them willing.

"It would help if you told me more about this game." I keep my voice calm.

"Say 'please', Mr. Webb. It won't kill you."

We're going to track this call. Fine. He wants that, doesn't matter to me. "Please."

Of course he makes me wait.

Now everyone who hears this, and people are going to, is going to think what this asshole wants them to think, that Rabb and I are having an affair. That's out of the question. That it's the truth is irrelevant. They can't think that. I've got to act as though it's so insane of him to say these things that they begin to doubt their own perceptions. Stay calm, listen to whomever dares to bring it up to me, then smile and talk about how anyone crazy enough to think that taking Rabb would matter to me is crazy enough to think just about *anything*. I'll deal with it later, if I have to. Not now. Now I have to get Rabb back, which means dealing with this asshole.

"You're much more reasonable than the commander. All right, Mr. Webb. A clue. You are in over your head. I've been planning this a long time. Look at those pictures. He's not in very good shape now, a broken rib or two, and I can't vouch for his safety if you keep refusing to play."

"I'm willing to play whatever game you want." I hate saying that, but we're dealing with a man's life here, and I need this man to believe that he's winning. Until I make him lose.

"Very good, Mr. Webb. I knew you were a reasonable man. I've heard very good things about you. Your clue, then. It's time you asked for some help. We both know who can help you. Someone smarter than you, someone you'd rather not go to. Or are you ready to say goodbye to Commander Rabb?"

He hangs up. I stab the button to get the location, but I can't believe the answer I get. "No lock? Why the hell not?"

I listen to the explanation, which isn't much of one. They don't know what went wrong, but something did. It doesn't matter, because it's all coming together. I get off the phone again and stare at the wall.

This is someone who knows our system, who's gathered reliable information, and who has devices that can make ours lock up and stop working. I know a whole agency full of people who were great at that, and I know they're still around.

*Someone smarter than you, someone you'd rather not go to.*

I know who that is now, too, not that he's smarter than me. And he's right. I do not want to go to him. But for Harm, I will.

I take deep breaths, calming breaths. I must be calm, collected, rational. Because I'm about to do something so irrational in anyone's eyes who might care that I might lose everything I've worked for all these years.

If I'm right, if I'm getting what this man said, the answers to my questions are in Kansas. Leavenworth, to be exact.

It's time to go see Clark Palmer.

*****

The food's not bad. It's even vegetarian. Stone knows a lot about me, which isn't a comforting thought. He brings the tray in, leaves it on the floor near me, then extends the barrier so that I can go and get it. Subtle, but still controlling. I'm supposed to be grateful that he's letting me have this. I do know something about mind games. I'm not as stupid as Palmer always wanted me to believe.

Palmer. This is about Clark Palmer and therefore the DSD. But how? I'm missing something; I know that I am. I wish my head didn't hurt.

Stone's watching me, a smile on his face. "Thinking, Commander? Please don't strain yourself."

He's so damned full of himself. I take another bite of the couscous with nuts and apricots and chew so that I won't answer him.

"Probably still trying to figure out how Mr. Palmer comes into this. Am I right, Commander?"

This time I nod. I'll give him that much.

"Mr. Palmer was my mentor at the DSD training facility."

His mentor. The DSD let Clark Palmer interact with agents they were training? Insane.

"It's simple. As long as he's in Leavenworth, you'll be in here. You're a hostage for their treatment of him. Luckily for you, all they're doing is keeping him locked up. If that changes, your treatment changes. I doubt it will."

I thought Palmer was the craziest man I'd ever meet, but Stone may be crazier.

"So you can look forward to a long stay here, Commander, unless Mr. Webb figures out what he needs to do to get you out." I do not like the sound of this. "But you don't need to know what that is."

He gives me another condescending smile, and I know he's only using my rank to humor me, damn him.

Why does he have me here? It can't just be revenge. He's talking about Clay figuring out whatever game he's playing, and that means that he's after something. I just can't seem to figure out what.

"You should think about going to sleep, Commander. I'm sure you need it."

I give him my iciest stare. "I'll go to sleep when I'm ready, Stone."

His mouth twitches. "You are stubborn. But it's all right. You're more amusing this way." He comes closer, and I tense. I know that barrier is there, but it doesn't feel like any kind of protection for me. "Did you want some kind of treatment for your ribs, Commander? I'm sure they have to hurt. All you have to do is ask. You'll have to do it yourself, but I'll tell you what to do."

I study his face and can't find any mockery in it. He shows me the bag he's carrying, and it looks like one a doctor would carry, but this could be a trick and probably is. "I don't trust you."

"You're going to have to trust me. I have your life in my hands. Me, and Clayton Webb. But then you like him. You trust him. It's almost worth my time to see about changing that," his smile is suddenly brutal, "but I'm not into guys. I am sure you're good, though. Don't be insulted that I'm not interested." He pauses and looks me up and down. "Hmm. It has been a while."

"Shut up." I don't care if it's stupid; I have to say something.

"Threatened by some repressed feelings of homophobia, Commander?" he purrs. "Or just by the fact that you're violating the rules of that Navy you love so much? It's all right, Commander. It's safe to talk about it here. I'm not out to ruin your career. Not that I think you're going to need any help in that. You'll manage that all by yourself."

Of course I'm upset that I'm going against the Navy's rules. But it's none of his damned business. "You're full of shit. Whatever you're trying to do, will not happen."

"Oh? We'll see, Commander. I just gave your Clayton a clue, after he begged for it, and I think he's smart enough to know what I mean." I hope he's lying about Clay begging. Clay doesn't beg for anything. I don't even want to think about what he must think about this. But he knows I'm alive. That's something. "I'm reasonably sure that he's going to go right where I want him to go. And then, I know everything will go exactly the way I've planned." He laughs. "I have a great deal of faith in the players."

Players. "Who else? Your friend Jack?"

"Oh, no. Jack's got his work to do. Well, Commander, if you're not interested in treatment, guess I'll be going." He's got that device in his hand and is pushing the buttons again. After a few moments I can feel the barrier against my body. I retreat as far as I can go. "It is tempting to leave you like this. Just a little payback for all the trouble you've caused."

I am not going to say anything. He wants me to.

"But that would be foolish. Maybe another time, when you're feeling better. Then it might be worth my time."

The barrier retreats enough for me to move, and I do, getting on the bed. I am tired. Maybe he drugged the food. The pain in my ribs is getting less, too.

He's leaning against the wall again, and his smile has something in it that I do not like at all. "Maybe I could learn to like guys," he says very softly, and I tense even more. "When I had my hands on you in the van, you felt really good."

Goddamn him. The fuck was taking advantage of me, and he's remembering it like it's some kind of date. His eyes are glittering, and he shifts his position with a suggestiveness that makes me want to beat the shit out of him. But I can't get to him. I hate that.

"Such soft skin for a guy and so very warm." His tongue comes out to touch his lips, and I just glare. "Tempting... and it has been a while. I know you'd be fun. After all, you have done it before. Hmm. Let me think a little more about this."

He is trying to get me scared. It is not going to happen. "You cannot get to me with your little word games." I keep staring at him. "I will not cooperate with you."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Harm."

"Don't call me that."

"Oh, so sorry. I'll try to do better." He comes closer. "I can take anything I want from you, Commander." The way he says my rank is vile. Like he knows so much about me, everything about me. "You need to understand that. You have lost. You are mine. You belong to me. Is that clear enough for you to understand?"

"Don't try anything." I am not his. That's absurd.

A light laugh. "You're so fun to tease, Commander. You take it so seriously. Relax. I don't do guys, remember? You really need to get a sense of humor." Bastard. Like it's some kind of amusement, which I'm sure it is to him. "All right, I have work to do. Sleep well. We'll talk more later. And wish Clayton a safe trip."

The lights go out, and he's gone. I sit very still. Clay on a trip. I don't like this at all. This guy is playing Clay, and Clay's letting him. I hope that I'm wrong about that. I hope that Clay's got this all figured out, or on his way to, and is going to get this bastard and whoever's working with him.

I blink. I don't want to go to sleep, but I'm going. I get myself arranged on the bed as comfortably as I can, wincing at how breathing still hurts when I'm not careful, and remind myself to sleep lightly. I can usually do that, but I'm not sure I can now.

*****

I made all the arrangements before I left, to save time, and now I'm waiting for Clark Palmer to be brought to me. They still let him have a computer. Bad idea, but I'm not here to help them figure out that Palmer's dangerous. I'm here to get help from him. It's an idea most people who know him would consider insane, but Palmer's smart, and there's never been too much use lying to him. I know, because I've tried and only succeeded some of the time. If I fail this time, I risk Harmon Rabb's life, and that's too big a risk to take.

That's making the big assumption that I'm going to be able to get him to talk to me. If he is involved in this kidnapping, it has to be for a reason. I have to be careful here. Very careful. I wish I had Harm here to help. I let out a short laugh. Of course, if I had Harm here, I wouldn't need to be here. Damn. I have to stop thinking about him as though he's anyone who matters to me. I have to stop that. He's Commander Harmon Rabb... asleep next to me, his face relaxed and peaceful.

I grit my teeth. No more of that.

By the time Palmer comes into the room I'm fine. I have to admit that it's nice to see him in cuffs.

"Hello, Webb." Cool, always so cool. As though this is nothing, an illusion. It's a hell of a lot more than that. He cannot leave here. I can.

"Palmer." I'm giving him nothing. I look at the guards. "Take off the cuffs, and leave us alone."

The guards look at each other, then at me. Palmer's laughing, not out loud, but I can see his shoulders shaking. "Mr. Webb, are you sure?"

I knew that I was going to have trouble, but right away? "I take responsibility for the prisoner. Now do it."

"Very well, Mr. Webb."

When I nod, one goes over and unlocks Palmer. He takes it calmly, but his eyes still have that damned laughter. He's enjoying this. And why shouldn't he? He can tell something's going on. I'd do the same in his position.

Except I haven't done anything to deserve being put in jail.

The guards leave, shutting the door behind them. I don't have to check to know that we're locked in here. I already know that, and how to get them to come back. I sit down at the table and gesture to Palmer to take the other chair opposite me, which he does.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Webb?" He's smiling, eyes intent on me. "Here to tell me I'm getting out?"

I have to get him to help me. "There's a situation I can't handle." I figure he'll love to look superior, and I don't give a damn what he thinks of me, as long as I get Harm, no, dammit, Rabb, out.

He tilts his head, eyes interested. "Well. That's something I never thought I'd hear you say. But why would *I* help *you*?"

He's not leaving me much room at all. But I can play this. "If you're not interested..." I shrug and stand. "Enjoy your stay here."

He doesn't do anything more than smile. "Webb, you didn't come here to take no for an answer. All right. Talk. Why not? It's not like I'm doing anything interesting here. If I like the game, I'll play."

I shoot him a hard look. Same words as the asshole who made those calls, the one who has Rabb. "Game?"

"Game, Webb," he says with a damnable patience in his voice. "You and I play games. You know that." His eyes widen at something, probably in my face. "Ah, but this one *matters*. Now I really want to know. Your mother, maybe? No. You wouldn't be this calm then. All right, Webb, come on. What's so wrong that you need me to help you fix it?"

I can tell one thing. He really doesn't know what this is. He's in the dark. I'd better enjoy it now, because he's the one who's going to be enjoying it when he finds out just who I'm that concerned about.

I lay out the situation calmly, and Palmer listens, giving an occasional nod. There's not much to tell. We know around when he was taken, and where, because his car was found near the Wall, but that's about it. His eyes get very bright when he hears that it's Rabb, but he doesn't say anything, and I'm glad. He does have a brain.

I finish and look at him. He's got a strange look on his face, thinking, but more.

"Clean snatch. Professional, but you must have already figured that out." He thinks some more, and I let him. "And you say whoever's got him wanted you to come to me?"

"From what I heard, yes," I say carefully.

"Did you bring tapes of the calls? If so, I'd like to hear them."

That makes sense, I remind myself. I do not want him hearing what that man said about Rabb, about me, but I can explain that one. I can handle this. "Yes."

He nods. "Good. And you said something about pictures."

I do not want him seeing Rabb like that, but I know he needs information to do this properly. There might be something in the pictures that will help him. It was bad enough when I had to fax Chegwidden copies. His voice changed so much when he saw them that I could hear it over the phone. He promised me that no one else in JAG would see them as soon as I suggested that it would be a good idea. That's something. No need for everyone to be upset.

I get the tape player out and put in the tape, reminding myself that it's necessary, then hand over the photos.

He fans through them. "Nice looking," he murmurs. "Too bad he's not in here. He'd be very popular. But not my type."

I wonder what Clark Palmer is doing when he's not working. Or what is being done to him. I don't like what I'm thinking, either.

"Don't worry about me," he says, startling me. "I'm handling it. Thanks, though."

The damnedest thing is that I was worried. Palmer's better than I thought, but I don't like that he can read me. Or that I was giving a damn for a moment. I'm over that now.

"Hmm. Worked him over pretty good. Pros. Nothing about the style says anything to me more than that. Not much to go on." He darts his eyes to me. "I don't know why they want you here, Webb."

And unless I've really lost it, he's still telling the truth.

"The messages now. Come on. There has to be something. They want me to know about this."

It's only then that I realize this is more than Harmon Rabb being taken. This is someone using me to send a personal message to Clark Palmer. So it has to be some kind of DSD shit. Great. Just great. And if I'd gotten more sleep, I might have figured that out and not had to come here at all, or came here with more information. I need to pull all the DSD personnel files, find out who was close to Palmer, who'd want to get him a message. Damn. I'll get to that as soon as I get back.

"Webb." I start and see that Palmer's got his eyes on my face. "This really does matter to you."

"It's an assignment." My voice is cold. I am not telling him anything about my personal involvement in this case. "You do remember about carrying out assignments?"

"Of course. But I keep getting that feeling this is really important. Oh, well, maybe it's just because you're hoping this will impress Chegwidden enough to get him on your side for a change, or you've got someone else to impress. Or maybe there's some kind of Company power struggle going on. Could be any of those."

He's amazing, sitting here in a prisoner's outfit, talking about life in the intelligence community, a life he'll probably never have again. But I didn't come here to talk shop. I hit the play button, and that damned voice comes out. Palmer listens intently to the two echoing ones, his face frowning, then the third one comes on, and something changes, just for a moment. Then he's calm, even calmer than before.

He knows that voice.

"Who is it?" I demand as soon as the tape is finished.

He glances at me. "Webb, come on. How would I know?"

"You know."

"I might have an idea. It was a short message, Webb. Don't push me."

Don't push him. I'd like to slam him against the wall and break his face, but I won't.

He shakes his head. "I wish I had more to go on. But that's how it goes." His cool eyes meet mine. "I'll be honest with you. Rabb kidnapped, hey, fine with me. Let the guy have him, keep him until he's too old to walk without a cane, teach him to fetch newspapers, I don't care. Nothing to interest me. But for you, and the right price..." His voice trails off. "You could get me out of here."

"That's out of the question." It isn't, but if I can get him to help for free or just a little, I'd prefer it.

"Then my help is also out of the question."

"You said you'd help."

"I never said my help would be *free*, Clayton." My first name, and he's looking at me with a seriousness that I know means business. "We're professionals. You want something, you pay for it. Do you want my help or not?"

I don't answer right away. I know that I can make any deal I want to. Chegwidden heard that I was going to Leavenworth and only said, "Find out what the bastard knows, if it gets Rabb back. Do what it takes." He'll back me, and he knows what backing me could mean. And he's got his own backing, so I'm safe here. Except that Rabb's going to kill me if he finds out that Palmer's out. All right. I'll deal with that when I have to. And I may not have to. I'll play this one close.

"Reduced sentence."

"How much?" Palmer's cool. We're talking about his future, and he's acting like it's not even about him.

"Down to ten years."

Short laugh. "Ah, Webb, come on. Do you want Rabb back or not? If I'm right, I can get him for you. And you can't do it without me."

"Five years. My final offer."

He doesn't even hesitate. "That's too bad. Nice seeing you again. You can call the guards. I've got reservations to take. Boring, but hey, it's better than wasting my time here."

I stare at him. He's not showing anything but calm and resolution. "Palmer, it's a lot less than you deserve."

"This matters to you, Clayton. I can see that. And if it's Rabb, you've got JAG behind you. And I know a little about Chegwidden. He'll move heaven and earth to get his pet lawyer back. You've got all you need to make a deal. All that's stopping you is the stupid idea I don't deserve to be out. All right. Then don't make the deal. Rabb can stay where he is. It's pretty obvious that whoever's got him wants you talking to me. So what happens when that person finds out you're not?"

The words hang in the air between us. Game over. Which probably means that Harm dies. He doesn't have to say it; I know. I have no choice.

I take a deep breath. This is not the worst thing in the world. That would be Harmon Rabb dead because I screwed up. "You get out, if we find him alive and in good condition."

"In fixable condition," Palmer says coolly. "As in, alive. It's not going to be my fault if his captor panics."

"And if it's because of advice you give?" I counter. This is insane, bargaining over what gets Palmer out. What gets Rabb back. But it's necessary.

"You can't do this without me, Webb," he says very softly. "We both know that. You know my price, but I'll sweeten it. If Rabb's dead when you find him, I'll get nothing. If he's alive, I get it all."

"Why?"

"If it's who I think it is, he'll keep Rabb alive."

"You do know who called me."

"I have an idea, Webb, but I'm not saying anything more until you make this official."

I stare at him. "Fine." I take out my phone and punch out a number, then give rapid instructions to the person who answers. Prepare the papers, send them to the proper people, get them to me. I knew it would come to this. I knew it. "You get that?" I snap to Palmer.

"Great." His mouth quirks in a smile. "Of course, I would like to be free first, but I know you'll keep your word. Even though you've given it to me." He continues when I say nothing. "Because if you don't, I'd bet that whoever took Rabb could take someone else. Maybe someone who's really close to you?"

"Are you threatening me?" He's a federal prisoner, and he's saying things like that. He is insane.

"I had nothing to do with this, Webb," he says calmly, but his eyes are glittering. Oh, but he's enjoying it. "Or have you decided I do?"

Our eyes lock, and I refuse to be the one to break. "I think you know exactly what this is about." He might, and if I can get him to tell me, I'll have a chance of getting this person.

"Prove it. This still is a country with laws, right? Even for me?"

I take a long, slow breath. He's watching me. And while Clark Palmer is a lot of things, stupid is not one of them, and I am not going to do anything to give him any information he doesn't need.

He picks up one of the pictures from the table. "Very nice. Wonder if the guy's fucked him yet?"

And that does it. I'm tired and frustrated and angry, and I snap out, "That is not going to happen." It can't happen. Not to Harm. Not rape.

He gives me a look of surprise, and I curse myself. Really smart. "Come on, Webb, I'm sure he'll survive. Harm probably took it in the ass from some of the guys he flew with. Gets lonely on those carriers, I hear."

He's full of shit, but I'm not going to debate Harm's past with him. "Is your friend into guys?"

"Who said it was a friend who had him?"

"I think it is." It has to be, if Palmer recognizes the voice.

"Well, it's obviously an admirer," he says brightly.

Yes. That much is obvious. "All right, Palmer. How do we find this guy?"

"You said he called. I say we wait for another call." My phone rings, and Palmer smiles. "I'll bet that's the guy."

I answer it. It's that bastard again.

"Very good, Mr. Webb." And that's all he says before hanging up.

"It was him, wasn't it?" Palmer's voice is interested. "Anything interesting?"

"I definitely did the right thing coming here, according to him," I say, telling myself I am still in control. But I am worried. That comment could have been about the call I just made. I wouldn't put it past this bastard to have a source inside the Company. In fact, I'm sure he does. Something else to worry about. Like I need it. I need to find this man and have a very long talk with him. "His name, Palmer. Come on."

"I'm still not sure, Webb," he reminds me. "All right, let me listen to the tapes again." He doesn't wait for my nod, just leans over and presses rewind, then play. "Hmm. Sounds like he *is* into guys now. And," he looks at me, "he thinks you and Rabb are lovers."

"That's absurd." I smile. "Come on, Palmer. Rabb?" I am used to lying. I've been doing it for years.

"Still, why does this guy think that?"

Just when I thought I was in the clear. He's the first one to listen to the messages. I've managed to avoid that with everyone else. It is my case. "He's got the idea into his head for some reason. How the hell should I know? But maybe that's how they do it at the DSD, huh?" I look at him out of narrowed eyes, giving him a knowing half-smile. "You tell me about it. Was it fun? Useful here, I'll bet. Or maybe not. All depends on what position you end up in." And I enjoy the way Palmer's face tightens, even though he's back under control in another breath. Got you, Palmer.

I really am good at lying. I hope good enough.

"You didn't have to make a proclamation. I believe you. You have much better taste than that," he says lightly, and drops it. "All right, I am sure about the man. It's Tom Stone. But it won't do you any good. He stopped using that a long time ago. He left the DSD and went out on his own. On my advice, he created a new identity. And no, Webb, I do not know what it is, and he probably has three or four more by now."

Great. "So how do we find this Stone, whatever name he's going by now? Any ideas?"

Palmer stares at me. "Is the goal here to get Rabb back or to catch Stone? I assumed that it was to get Rabb."

He's got me there. Of course that's the primary goal. But I want this Stone.

I may not be able to get him.

"To get Rabb," I say calmly. "Of course. But it would be best to get Stone, as well."

Palmer shakes his head. "Don't see that happening. He'll kill Rabb if he thinks we're getting too close."

I listen for signs that he's pleased, but I get none. He's dispassionate and cool. The way I want to be, the way I should be. And this case means a lot to him, as much to him as anything ever could. It's going to get him out of prison if we're successful.

And we have to be successful. I can't fail.

*****

I want to sleep, I'm so tired, but someone's talking, a voice I should know, then do know. Clay. God, he found me, it's all right... and then I open my eyes, and there's not a trace of him. Only asshole Stone back. I must have dreamed it. I really don't want to be sleeping when he's around.

I sit up and rub my eyes, feeling the barrier come closer. It stops before it brushes me, but I'm not going to be able to move very far. I can handle this.

"Good morning, Commander. Sleep well?"

I stare at him and don't answer. My ribs are taped, I realize. That's why they don't hurt. He had his damned hands on me again, and I slept through it. Goddammit. I must have been drugged.

"You're not even going to thank me for taking care of you? You're no fun at all now." Light, mocking voice. I'm not going to let him get to me, though. I know better. He's got me here, but I don't have to play his games. I won't play his games. "All right, if you won't talk, maybe you'll listen. Your Clayton got to his destination safely, and now he's playing my game."

That's what he thinks. Clay's a hell of a lot smarter than any goddamned DSD agent. Ex-agent. "How come you didn't get rounded up with the rest of the DSD morons?"

"Oh, now you're going to talk." He laughs again. "Because I'm not a 'DSD moron,' as you so succinctly and stupidly put it. I've been out of the DSD for years now. Working on assignments for Mr. Palmer, of course, but with no attachment to the Division. We decided it was safer that way."

Shit. There are DSD people out there we don't even know about? I shouldn't be surprised.

"It's all right, Commander, really. You don't have to worry about it. We're not going to do anything that would make you and your friends at the Judge Advocate General Corps uncomfortable." He shakes his head and gives me this damned amused look again. "You won't know anything about us. But someone has to do the dirty work."

"Whatever dirty work you are doing for Palmer, does not need doing," I snap back.

"What I'm doing right now needs to be done," he says pleasantly. "And Clayton Webb understands."

I am not going to ask. I clamp my mouth shut and fix my eyes on the wall and hear him laugh again.

"So stubborn," he mocks. "I know you want to know what's going on, Commander. You're always so curious, always wanting to know things that don't concern you. Well, this one concerns you."

I flick a look of contempt over him, then go back to staring at the wall. It's painted white and is very boring, and I wonder suddenly how long I'm going to have to stay in this room with nothing to do, the only places to sit the bed or the floor, and try to stay sane. I swallow. No windows to look out of, the only light source not something I can control, the only person to talk to the man who is holding me captive. But I can manage. I will manage. And Clay will do... what is Clayton Webb doing? It's got this guy happy, and I can't think that's a good thing.

"You should want to know how your Clayton's doing, Harm." His voice is soft. "It could get you out of here, and I know that you don't want to be here. Why would you? It's no fun at all in this room, is it?"

No. It isn't. But I don't answer him, don't even protest him using my name. I have to be silent, have to fight that way now. Talking gives him what he wants. Silence gives him nothing.

"Oh, Harm, all right. You're so pitiful when you're trying to resist." Mocking again, and I can't help turning my head to glare at him. He laughs when he sees it. "Don't ask, fine. I'll tell you about your Clayton Webb anyway."

He said that Clay was at his destination, whatever that is, and was playing his game. He's got that wrong. Clay's figured out their game and has to be going to bust it up.

"Don't you even want to try and guess where he's gone, Harm? Oh, sorry, I forgot again, how stupid of me. Commander."

I make myself keep breathing. He's trying to play games with me, and I will not let him.

"Your Clayton's in Leavenworth. Want to guess why?"

Oh, no. No, Clay. You wouldn't. Not that bastard. I should have known he'd be part of this. He knows. Of course. This is all Palmer's idea. He's in jail, but he's still making things happen.

"To talk to Mr. Palmer, of course," he answers himself. He's really smiling now. I must be showing how I'm feeling. Damn. "They're having a very good talk. I'm pleased with Mr. Webb. He's showing himself to have a great deal of intelligence. He would have made a fine DSD agent. Too bad he chose the Company over us. But then these things happen."

"If Webb's talking to Palmer, he's going to find out just where you are, since I'm sure Palmer knows all about this," I spit out.

He gives me a look of surprise. "You really think that I'd endanger him that way? Oh, no, Commander. Mr. Palmer knows nothing about what I'm doing, except for what Mr. Webb has told him. But he does know that you and Mr. Webb are lovers." He's smiling again, dammit. "Mr. Webb played him the tapes of my calls. And I made it very clear I understood Mr. Webb's reasons for looking for you so hard."

Calls. With tapes. Which means other people heard them. I have no career. I'm going to be thrown out of the Navy. I swallow and try to find a part of the wall that has some kind of interest, but I can't, and it doesn't matter.

"Worried, Commander?" he purrs. "Well, I wouldn't if I were you. Clayton Webb will make sure you don't get in trouble. He'll do anything for you. You should feel happy about that." I really hate how he talks about me and Clay. "And I know that Mr. Palmer would never give away your," laugh, "little secret."

"Palmer is in Leavenworth. He's in no position to do anything." That's a lie, and I know it, but I have to say it. I can't let this bastard see me uncertain.

"But he won't be in there very long." The purr is deeper, and I do not at all like what I'm hearing. I freeze. "Oh, you really haven't figured that out? Commander, you surprise me. Mr. Palmer is going to help Mr. Webb get you back, and then Mr. Palmer will be a free man. That is, if I can keep you alive and in reasonable shape. And I intend to do that. Although you are so very tempting."

He's starting that again. The glittering eyes and the smile and that predatory look. Damn, I'm believing him. He's not going to fuck me. I won't let him. I make myself think about what he's said. Clay going to see Palmer. Making a deal to let Palmer out of the time he so, so much deserves, that I worked so damned hard to make sure he got. Clayton Webb would not make a deal with Palmer. He would never let Palmer out of jail. That's insane.

His smile is wider, more pleased, oh, so very pleased. "The call has been made, the deal set, and the process has started. All I have to do is wait until I hear what I want to, and then, Commander, you go home. So you really should be happy. Your Clayton has gotten you free. And your career is safe. I promise you that, Commander. I wouldn't want you to be unhappy. In fact, I'll make sure to have my contacts destroy the tapes. That way you won't have to worry at all. Better?"

"Contacts." I really don't want to hear this. And I don't trust his offer. Any friend of Palmer's is not to be trusted. I'm sure of that.

"Yes, Commander. My contacts in the Company. So there won't be any problem at all. I do not want you destroyed, no matter what you think. I could have done that with some cameras and a tape sent to your Admiral Chegwidden. Think about that one, Commander, and see if you can get your mind around the concept. I'm sure you can if you try." He is insufferable. "I'll have some food ready for you in a few minutes. Oatmeal, but I got you some blueberries. You can eat them and think about feeding them to your Clayton. Oh, that's right, he likes strawberries." I hate how much he knows. "Well, just eat your fruit. It's good for you."

I am going to throw the damned berries against the wall when I get them if he says one more word. He must see that in my eyes, because he just smiles and leaves. I want to scream, hit something, but then I remember about the camera and turn my back to it. I won't give him anything. I feel tears coming, dammit, and rub my eyes until they're gone.

Clay, no. You can't let Palmer out in exchange for me. Can't you see it's a trap? Can't you see that it's the wrong thing to do? Let him keep me. He'll get tired of it, let me go. And even if he doesn't, Palmer loose is wrong. Don't do it, Clay. Don't give Palmer and this bastard what they want. Damn you, do the right thing.

*****

This is insane, sitting here with Palmer, watching him think while I wait for the file on Tom Stone to be delivered from the local CIA office. Palmer told me that he needed some time to figure out what to do next about Stone, and I agreed that it would be good if he could. But that was, I check my watch, two hours ago. I grimace and make myself put my arm back where it was. What the hell is taking them so long? I was told it would be here in an hour.

"What's wrong, Webb?" He gives me a look that I'm sure is supposed to show concern, but there is no way in hell he's concerned about me. All he cares about is getting out of here. "We'll get Rabb back, don't worry."

"Nothing's wrong."

His look this time isn't concern; it's disbelief, but he doesn't say anything, thank god. I pick up my cup of coffee, which is bitter and cool now. One of the guards brought it. He didn't bring any for Palmer, and he didn't seem to care.

The smart thing to do is to stay here with Clark Palmer, to wait for him to figure out this guy's plan, but it isn't the easiest thing for me. I won't let him out of my sight until I know that Harm's safe. Rabb, dammit. I make myself very carefully place the styrofoam cup back on the table. I will not show any weakness around Palmer. He lives for that.

"You want this done now, I know that, but you have to give me some more time, Webb. I need to figure out the right next move. Unless you're interested in seeing Harm get that military funeral he's been bucking for since he decided to follow in daddy's footsteps."

I take a deep breath. He's baiting me. I will not let him see anything. I make myself smile. "And you'd like that, wouldn't you, Clark?"

He gives me a sharp look this time, then laughs. "It has its good points, although I would like to get out of here. And you? A world without Harmon Rabb sound good to you?"

I manage a shrug. "I don't like failing."

He nods. "I understand. So we won't."

He makes it sound so simple. It isn't that simple at all. I'm glad that Rabb can't see Clark Palmer and me working together. He'd hate it. I can almost see the anger on his face now. No, can't think about that.

Palmer stirs and starts muttering. "Damn, I know I'm missing something. I know Stone. He's expecting me to know how to be able to get in touch with him, and I don't know how. I can't remember anything that would tell me." His pen taps, taps, taps against the top of the table, and his lips tighten. "This is crazy. I have to know this. Tom knows how long it's been, so it can't be that complicated." The pen stops. "Or is he going to contact us again? No, that's too risky. He'd know there wasn't much chance I could get on the phone." He starts tapping the pen again, and I reach over and take it from him. He gives me a startled look, like he's just figured out he's doing it.

"Palmer, relax." It's not going to help if he beats himself up over this. "Do you need some food?" He shakes his head, his lips still tight. "Water?"

He laughs shortly. "No, thank you, Webb, what I want is the brain I used to have. The life I used to have," he mutters, and I almost don't catch it.

"What will you do when you're out?" Well, it's better than sitting here just waiting, and I am curious.

"I'll find something. I've got friends." Confidence in his voice, no question about that.

"Friends?" It just slips out, dammit.

He gives me a long look that has absolutely no expression in it. "Yes, Webb, friends. I'm not the incarnation of evil. I even get postcards every so often when one of them goes on vacation."

Now I feel like a complete idiot. It's just that I've never even thought that Palmer had a life. But I can't say I was sorry or anything like that. "Sounds nice," I say carefully, and he laughs, this time sounding a little more relaxed.

"Yeah, it is. Don't worry, Webb, I'm not going to come and apply for a job at State."

That almost makes me laugh. Like he'd get one. "So I can assume the Company's not going to be hearing from you either?"

His shoulders are shaking with laughter. "Yes, you can assume that. I'll find something. But thanks for asking." His eyes meet mine, and I realize that he means that.

I'm talking with the man who tried to kill Harmon Rabb on more than one occasion, hell, was going to kill *me*, and I'm really talking with him? I need to get some sleep.

I hear the knock on the door and stand. Palmer looks startled, but then I didn't tell him I sent for Stone's file.

"I'd just sit there if I were you," I say dryly and get a nod from him as the door opens, then shuts.

The man who comes into the room has a folder in his hand that he hands to me. "Mr. Webb. I'm Agent Jackson. Good to meet you." His eyes flicker over to Palmer, who's still sitting in the chair, then away. I look over at Palmer, whose eyes are fixed on Jackson. He sees me look at him and shrugs, then looks away with a smile. Of course, he's curious.

"Thank you, Mr. Jackson." I give the man a smile and hope he'll go.

"You're welcome, Mr. Webb."

I see him look at Palmer again, and I'm sure it's because he's wondering what the hell's going on that I'm here talking with this imprisoned ex-DSD agent. I feel like taking him outside and explaining some of the facts of life to him. Sometimes you have to come and talk to a man who you know you can't trust, make deals you don't want to make, deals that will piss off the man you're trying to save, and dammit, the last thing you need then is to have someone else who should understand questioning you in any way.

"Want something from me, Mr. Jackson?" Palmer grins at him. "Have to go through Mr. Webb. He's the boss."

I give Palmer a glare, then turn my attention back to Jackson. "We need to get back to work here," I say quietly. "Is there anything else?"

Jackson looks a little rattled by Palmer's goading, but he doesn't say anything about it. "No, sir. If you need anything, here's my card." He passes it to me. "Don't call the office; I won't be there. The number's on the back. New cell phone. I'm cleared to assist you in any way I can."

"If there is anything, I'll let you know."

He breaks out into a quick smile. "Great. We booked you a room, as you requested."

"Good." I'll have to stop this at some point, and I'm not willing to leave here until I know where I'm going. Harm could be anywhere in the world by now.

"I'll be back later to take you there."

"I have a car," I say mildly. Nice to have someone give a damn, though. I'm going to have to make sure that I mention this to his boss, maybe even to mine.

"Of course. I'll call you, then. I have the number." He gives Palmer another look, which is returned with a half-smile from Palmer, then he's gone.

Palmer's eyes are very bright. "Nice of Junior to bring over the file," he says casually. "You know him?"

"Palmer, don't be ridiculous. How the hell could I know every agent in every station? He was told to assist, that's all."

"No, of course you wouldn't. Sorry, Webb. Stupid of me."

I sit down and open the file and read through it, then frown. I can't see anything that will help us.

"Want to let me look at that, whatever it is?"

He might find something I haven't, and I could use a break. "Yes. It's Stone's file."

His eyebrows go up. "The CIA has a file on him?"

I smile. "No, Palmer. This is the DSD file on Mr. Stone."

He blinks a couple of times, and his face stills, then he nods. "Got me there. So the CIA has the DSD files."

"We have this one." I'm not going to admit to anything more. It's not Palmer's business. "You wanted to read this, or do you have it memorized?"

He grins at that. "Good one, Webb." He reaches for the file, and I hand him the file.

He pours over it as I wait. I'm tired of waiting. Finally he looks up. "Webb, do me a favor. Go fidget somewhere else. Get some fresh coffee or something to eat. You look like hell."

The only reason he cares about that is if I collapse, he might lose his chance. I know that. But he's got a point. "If I leave, they put the cuffs on," I warn him.

He shrugs. "All I need to do is be able to read this, and I can spread out the pages for that. Just give me some time, all right?"

I make up my mind. He can't get into any trouble here, with cuffs on, in a locked room, with guards outside, and I want to get out of here. I get the guard in, explain the situation, and soon Palmer's hands are cuffed in front of him.

"Just a little while. I want answers, Palmer."

"That'll be fine, Webb. And don't worry." This smile is not mocking at all. "I'll be a good boy."

He's back to reading intently before I'm out the door. I sigh and head for the cafeteria one of the guards points out. It's empty this time of day, whatever that means. I don't know any more. I could look at my watch again, but all I need to know is that Harm's still the prisoner of this Stone, and as far as I know, I'm still doing what I'm supposed to. I would feel better if I'd heard from the man again, but maybe Palmer's right, and he's waiting for us to contact him. I don't know.

I get some coffee and sit over by a window. There's sun coming in, and I let myself just sit there and be, sip my coffee. It feels good to relax.

*****

"So how many times did your feet get stepped on?" Harm's laughing as we take off our coats. He takes mine to hang it up, then comes back to grin at me. "Come on, Clay, I saw you wince at least once."

"Once too many," I retort. "Why do you care? You looked like you were having the time of your life."

"The things I do for my country, or, in this case, the CIA," he says, deadpan for a moment, then breaks into laughter again. "I am never going to another embassy party. Not even if you beg me, Clay."

"I asked you, Harm. I didn't beg. I never beg."

"Oh, that's right." He's suddenly got that look on his face, the one that tells me that it could be a very good night if I pay attention to what I'm doing. "*You* never beg."

I lick my lips and step forward. "You beg, though. Sometimes."

"No, I don't beg," he whispers as my hand slips behind his neck to bring down his head to my level. "Never."

I let my tongue trace over his lips, which part right away and move on to mine, kissing me fiercely and desperately. Oh, yes. Definitely a night with potential.

When I try to pull away, his arms come around to keep me there. "Don't stop," he murmurs.

I smile to myself. I'm not stopping. "You want to make out on the couch?" I tease. "I was hoping for better than that."

He lifts his head, and I like the flush that's spread over his face. "I want you."

"You can have me. In the bedroom."

It takes a moment for that to register, then he lets me go and heads down the hall to my room. He gets out of his clothes before me, so when I finish hanging up my tuxedo, he's in the bed, watching.

"Come on, Clay." He pats the mattress, tongue moving over his lips. His eyes brighten as he sees me doing the same thing. "Come over here and let me show you what I can do for you."

"I know what I want you to do for me," I counter and slip in next to him.

He angles in his head for more kissing, and this time he's in charge, making me wonder if letting him take over is such a damned bad idea. But I remember that look, and get my hands down to his ass, stroking it even while his mouth is hard on mine, getting him to grind up against me, and finally to break the kiss so he can breathe.

Oh, yes. While he's recovering, I move behind him and get my lips on his back, hearing his low moans with pleasure. My cock's hard and leaking pre-come, but I can wait a little while longer. Getting Harm to the point of begging is always worth it. I don't often get the chance. We make love as often as we can manage, but more often than not we end up using our hands or mouths, saving anything more athletic for the right time. And when that happens, it's more usual for me to be the one who's spreading his legs and being penetrated. I do enjoy it, but I'm not in the mood for that tonight. I had to spend the evening talking with people I didn't want to talk to, dancing with some women who were nice, but who ended up stepping on my feet when they got a look at the handsome Navy commander who was smiling at them, and at me, and I'm ready for a turn at him myself.

Tonight Harm's going to be spreading for me. I just have to keep going, keep working on him.

He's on his front now and trembling, not very much, but I can feel it under my mouth. I'm still kissing him, making my way down his back, stroking his ass again as well, fingers playing all over his skin, teasing him with touches to his balls and even some light touches to the puckered opening. He doesn't protest, instead spreads his legs wider.

"Dammit, Clay," I hear him say. "Come over here and let me touch you." His voice is trembling, too.

Yes, we're getting close. "No, Harm." I let my finger stroke more firmly against his opening. He gasps this time. "I like it just fine where I am."

"You know I'll make it good..." His voice dies away when I lean over and start using my tongue on him. Yes, this always works, but getting here is the hard part. If I just said, "Harm, I want to fuck you tonight," he'd smile and get into bed, but then I'd find myself faced with a very determined man who'd end up doing just about anything else, and since he does everything else damned well, I wouldn't have a chance. But seduce him into it, and he's just fine. I know that he likes it, but I'm still not sure why it takes so much to get him to do it. Maybe someday I'll figure it out, but right now all that I need to know is that it's working.

"Clay, please," I hear him say and lift my head. "Please."

I smile, glad he can't see it. "What?"

He shudders this time as I use my saliva to press one finger in just a little. He doesn't have a chance. "Damn you." And his voice is so desperate, so hungry. I know he doesn't want me to stop, and I won't.

I reach for the tube of jelly that I keep by the bed, get it open, start working that over him and over me.

"Clay..." His voice dies away as I get a finger in again, but this time angle it so that it's up against his prostate. "Oh, god," he whispers, and I remember the first time I fucked him, over my couch. He sounded just like this. "Yes. Please."

That's the closest he'll get to begging, and it's enough for me. I pull out my finger, replace it with the head of my cock, and push slowly into him, my hands stroking his back, his sides, moving to his cock when he pushes up to hands and knees. Oh, he feels so damned good, so tight and hot and ready. I get all the way in and start stroking in and out, pumping him to the same rhythm, hearing his harsh cries mingle with my deeper ones. I pump, he shudders, and it goes on until I feel him clench around me and hear him scream and come. His contractions get me off, and it takes the rest of my energy to pull out and lie down next to him. My reward is the slow, warm smile that takes over his face. I fall asleep with the image of it in my mind.

*****

I blink my eyes open. Damn. How long was I out, anyway? I drain my coffee, which at least is still warm, and make myself stand and head back to the room where Palmer hopefully has some answers for me.

I don't want to remember how good it is with him. I can't. I have to do my job, not go to pieces. I keep walking, and soon I'm back at the guarded door.

Back to reality.

Palmer looks up when I enter. "I was beginning to think you'd figured this out without me and taken off," he says lightly.

"Take them off," I tell the guard, and this time I don't get an argument. I wait until he's gone to answer Palmer. "No."

He rubs his wrists, one after the other. Maybe the cuffs were too tight, or maybe he tried to get out of them. The discomfort will pass.

"Any answers?"

"No, but I'm working on it."

Stone will call again. I'm almost certain of it. He likes playing games too much for that. I tell Palmer that, and he shrugs.

"Maybe that's it. He'll deal with you. Hell, I know I'd trust your word."

Right. Palmer should know better than to try that.

I reach for the phone when it goes off. It's Jackson, telling me again that he's here for whatever I need. I keep the call short and frown. Pushy. Is he new or something? He didn't act that new.

I check my watch and yawn at the same time. I've got to get some sleep.

"Agent Jackson, right?" I nod. "Nice of him to go to the trouble of calling."

Why is Palmer talking about Jackson without sniping? The DSD always snipes at the CIA. It's tradition. Something's going on here, and I don't like what I'm thinking.

"Do you know Jackson?"

"Come on, Webb. How would I know some CIA junior agent?"

It's all coming together. "You do know him."

He's not saying a word. Just sitting there, watching me.

"Dammit, Palmer, work with me! Or I swear you won't get out, ever!"

"That isn't a very helpful thing to say, Webb." At least he's talking. "But trust me, you want to work with Agent Jackson."

"Just tell me, Palmer." Now I'm close to begging, and I do not want to be.

"Webb..." His voice dies out, then he shrugs and finally gives me my answer. "He's our link to Stone."

I stare at him, then pull out my phone.

"Webb, don't," Palmer says sharply and is up out of his chair in a quick motion. He's in front of me, hands on the phone. "He doesn't know where Stone is. Jackson's the intermediary, Webb. Stone knows I'm not going to be able to initiate independent communications, so he activated Jackson. That's what I was missing."

I get the phone away and sit again. Palmer watches me, then goes back to his seat. "I'm supposed to trust some rogue agent?"

"Jackson will disappear if we push him, Webb. Don't be an idiot. We're so close to making this happen, really. This is good news."

"I don't trust this."

"I trust him, Webb. I trained him." He keeps talking. "Listen, I found a note from Stone hidden in the file. 'Jack will keep me informed. Rabb will be released when I'm certain that the promise of your freedom will be honored.' He looks up. "That's it. Nothing to go on."

"So all I had to do was let you go?" I whisper.

"I really didn't know, Webb." There's actually a note of apology in his voice.

I am in the Twilight Zone, working with the DSD, or some of it. I swallow. Rabb's been taken prisoner, beaten, all to get Palmer free. And I'm still not sure Stone will honor the deal.

"I imagine Jackson will end up being the one bringing the papers," I say after a long moment.

He nods. "I'm sure he will."

"I have to know that Rabb's free before I can authorize this, Palmer." I'm holding on, but what is there to hold on to? I played their game. I did exactly what this Stone wanted, and I feel... dirty. I should be used to this feeling by now, but this time it's worse because I am going to have to explain this to Rabb, and oh, shit, have to go back to the Company and make a report. This is not going to look good at all.

"Webb," Palmer's leaning over, "listen to me. Stone will make it look good. It will be fine."

I'm very glad right now that I made sure we were in one of the older rooms, one without cameras or any kind of devices to tape the meeting. I don't ever want anyone to know that Clark Palmer felt sorry enough for me that he felt he had to comfort me.

"Trust me. Stone will call with more demands, or just say it's over and give us a pickup point."

I shake my head and say nothing.

"Webb." This time he touches my hand. "Come on. Stop this. You found the way to get Rabb out. In a few weeks he'll be getting into his more normal kind of trouble, and you'll be wondering why the hell you even bothered."

I stand abruptly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'm getting out of here."

Palmer stands, too. "You're too involved," he says very softly. "And we both know why."

I fix him with a stare. "You know nothing about my involvement."

After a moment, he nods. "You're probably right. They do it differently here than in the real world."

We hold each other's eyes for a long moment, then he breaks it. I think I won that one. I'm not sure.

"I did not know this was going to happen, Webb. You have to believe me."

"I believe you." And I do. But how does that make a difference? Rabb's still gone. I move to the door and get the guard. "We're through here. " I wait until the guard has the cuffs back on Palmer. "But I'll be back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, then." Palmer's voice is quiet. "Probably be over tomorrow."

I go over to the table and gather up all that I've brought as he's led out. The photos, the tape recorder, the file Jackson brought, all go into my briefcase and are locked away. I take the cassette tape out of the recorder before I lock it away and put it in my inside jacket pocket. For safekeeping.

I can relax now. There's nothing more I have to do but go through the motions.

Somehow I thought that this moment would be a happy one.

*****

When Stone comes in, I stop the careful stretching I'm doing and stand still. Just one chance at him is all I ask. I can't make Clay see sense, can't even know if Stone's telling me the truth, and hell, he probably isn't. Clay wouldn't be stupid enough to let Palmer out of jail; he's just playing Stone, has to be. But I can take this Palmer-clone if I get a chance.

Sleep is great for restoring rational thinking. I'm half-surprised Stone's letting me get any rest at all, but I'm not going to complain. Shows he's dumber than he likes to believe. My head feels normal again. Maybe I didn't have a concussion. Breathing's easier now, too.

"Well, you're healing nicely after all, Commander," he says in that damned smooth voice of his and smiles. "I wouldn't want to give you back to Mr. Webb in damaged condition. It might spoil his fun. Tell me, what does he like to do with you? Fuck you, of course, but what else?"

"So when do you think Palmer's going to sell you out?" My attack doesn't have to be physical. I can play mind games better than this guy thinks.

He gives me a look that's guarded. "You really think that he'd do that?"

This is too easy. He's playing with me, damn him. And in another minute he's laughing, destroying the illusion.

"Rabb, you're something else. Mr. Palmer isn't going to sell me out, as you put it; he can't. He doesn't know anything that can hurt me. Nothing at all. And why would he? You tell me." He leans against the wall again, clearly prepared to humor me.

"To get a reduced sentence." Clay will not let Palmer out. I know Clayton Webb. He does things I don't approve of, but nothing that would endanger people, or the country.

He's still laughing. "He's getting out, Commander. I promise you that much. All I have to do is give you back, and he's a free man. It's that simple." He straightens. "But maybe I don't feel like doing that yet."

I watch him come closer, wait. If he tries to touch me, he's mine.

"I like having you here. It's justice. No, it's not quite that, since justice would be you dead and rotting for what you did to him."

"You are a dead man, Stone," I snarl. It's stupid to say that, I know that, but I need him to know that I'm not giving up. Need me to know that.

"Aren't we all, Commander? You are lucky that I need you alive. I could enjoy killing you."

I'm staring at his eyes, and I believe it. And I wonder if he's going to decide that it's what he wants now. I need to be more careful. Clay would be giving me that 'shut up' look I know so well. God, Clay. I don't know what to believe any more. Maybe he has a plan that I don't know about. Maybe letting Palmer out will be all right.

Maybe I'm moments away from dying. I have to pay attention to Tom Stone, who's still staring at me with that very intense and focused look.

"I thought about taking both you and Webb and killing you slowly while he watched," he says in an absolutely calm voice, "but that might not have helped Mr. Palmer."

I shake off the cold feeling that's come over me and speak. "And that is the goal, right?"

"Very good, Commander. Yes, that is the goal."

I can't look away from him, and god knows I want to.

"You need to remember that. And be grateful that your life is what I'm trading for his. He's a hell of a lot more valuable to the world than you are." His smile is brief and cold. "Well, Commander, I don't really want to talk to you any longer. Perhaps later. Pray that your Webb keeps playing my game. Because if he doesn't, if I get one hint that he's trying to change the game, you pay. And I am really beginning to wonder how well Webb's taught you to do all the things I'm sure he's taught you. And how much fun it would be to send you back to him with a story of what I can do."

I finally manage to blink. "I will not let you touch me."

He shrugs. "Who said you'd have a choice, Commander? I play to win, always. Better stop eating, stop drinking, stop breathing. Then you won't have to worry about what I can do to you. Otherwise, you're at my mercy." He's watching my face, and I wish so much that I wasn't showing him anything. "Ah, you are so interesting to have around. No, I'm not letting you go yet. Mr. Palmer's fine with Mr. Webb to keep him company. He'd understand what I'm doing."

"Palmer only understands getting what he wants," I say very softly. A chink. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about him finding out that you were the one keeping him in that place one more night." I pause, and god, he's listening. "I wouldn't want to be you when he learns. I'd start running now."

Something flickers over his face, something that I know is a question, a doubt. Then it's gone.

"You do not understand Mr. Palmer. Not at all." He turns his back to me and goes out the door, turning out the light this time. I'm in total darkness. I find my way to the bunk by touch and sit there breathing.

I got to him. I just hope it was the right thing to do.

*****

I decide to go to the room Jackson got for me. What can it hurt? And if this is about me playing along with their game, well, it's Rabb's life I would be playing with, would be risking, and I won't do that.

I get to the car and find that Jackson is there, waiting for me. Probably to keep an eye on me for this fuck Stone. I swallow. I have to play this one right.

He smiles. "Hope it's all right that I'm here, Mr. Webb."

"Clayton." I have to stay on this guy's good side. "Sure."

He nods. "I go by Jack. Hate my first name." And he smiles again.

I want to beat him until he tells me where Rabb is, until he looks like the pictures Stone sent to me, the ones that I know I'm going to see if and when I sleep. I want to so much. But I can't take that chance.

"You know, I'm pretty tired. Maybe you could drive me," I say carefully. "Then maybe someone from your office could get this car back. I don't really need it. It's in the way." He has to think that I'm on his side, that I'm trusting him, that I'm being fooled.

He gives me a big smile. Looks like a college kid. I wonder just how old he is, how he managed to get through the screening to become CIA. Who helped him. What else he's done.

I should turn him in, and I know I won't. He's going to help me get Rabb back.

"No problem. I'm here to help with anything. All you have to do is ask. Hell, if I could, I'd read your mind."

Yes, that I'm sure of. I just smile. Rabb's life. That's all I care about. Palmer out, this Stone free, Jackson here in the Company, all right. I'll pay anything so that Rabb is in the world. Even though this payment will probably cost me his place in my life. That isn't important right now. Not at all.

He waits while I get my bag out of the car, accepts the keys, and leads me over to his. I'm really trusting him, and more than him, Palmer here. Rabb would never understand this. But I saw Palmer's eyes. And I have to believe him. Palmer isn't lying to me.

But Jackson may be lying to us both. And Stone - hell, I don't even know what Stone is thinking. What if this is some kind of trick to get all three of us killed?

And when did I put Palmer on the same side as I am? He's not. He's on Stone's side, Jackson's, and always, his own. Always.

We get to the motel, and Jackson insists, with the big grin of his, on coming up with me. I let him. It's not worth fighting about.

We get inside, and he frowns. "Damn," he mutters. "I didn't think the place was this bad."

I look around. Just another room, nothing special, nothing terrible. Mother would hate it, but then I can say that about most places I stay. I'll manage. I tell him that.

"You're a senior agent. It's not proper."

Proper. Now that's interesting. The DSD was always about hierarchy, from what I've heard. Someone needs to tell Jack here that he needs to change some of his speech patterns.

From that alone I know that he's not really CIA. He's probably gone into the computer, changed records, or had someone change them for him, so that he can have this assignment. At least our screening isn't fucked up.

He's still glaring at the room when my mouth opens and decides to ruin everything.

"How does Stone contact you?"

His face goes absolutely still, and I wait. Finally he sighs. "I told him you'd figure it out." His bright eyes meet mine. "If you turn me in, he dies."

"I do know that much." I show nothing. I cannot afford to make another mistake, if that was one. His phone goes off.

He stares at me, then flips it open. I know that I have to be very careful now.

"Jackson," he says tersely, then his face tightens even more. "Not now. Give me ten minutes." He shuts it. "I've got to go."

"That was Stone." I don't need him to tell me I'm right.

"Just rest. There's a decent place to eat down the road. I'll pick you up in the morning. Don't blow this, Mr. Webb. I don't know anything that will help you."

"Yes, you do," I say quietly. "You know Stone. Give him a message for me. Tell him I'm still playing the game. Will you tell him that?"

"Yeah," he says after a minute. "Yeah. So you and Rabb really are lovers?"

"I was told to get Harmon Rabb back. Aside from that, I have no interest in him whatsoever."

I stare at him coldly, and he shrugs. "O.K., sorry. None of my business. I'll be here at nine. Be ready."

I nod. Where does he expect me to go? I have to be here.

His eyes are suddenly tired. "Stone's going to love hearing this."

"You know that the release papers are in the works."

"Yeah."

"So there's nothing to worry about."

I'm reassuring him. God, I hate my job.

"Stone's..." He hesitates. "He's a little off. I'd worry about Rabb if I were you."

I'm not going to tell him that I haven't stopped since he was taken. "Tomorrow, Jackson."

He nods and opens the door. I stay standing until he closes it, then let myself give in and sit.

I should have taken him down. I should have made him tell me everything. He could have been a bargaining chip, helped me get to Stone. And I let him go.

Rabb never would have let him go. Even when we were close to enemies, when I was taken prisoner, he got me out. He didn't have to. But he did.

He is going to hate me. I have to accept that.

I'm going to lose him by saving him. But then I always figured I'd lose him eventually. If not to a woman, then to his job, his idea of what his life should be, needs to be.

I don't want to lose him. If we could have had just one more time...

I make myself sit up and take off my jacket. No. Don't think about that. Shower, fresh shirt, at least, food. Check in with Langley.

I decide to check in with Langley first and pick up my phone. I get Endicott, who's a decent agent, fortunately.

"How's it going?"

"Making progress." I'm not going to tell anyone the truth. "Palmer's being helpful, but there's only so much he knows at this point."

"A DSD agent helping us. Strange. Listen, Webb, there's some bad news." No. It can't be. Not Rabb. "You don't have any more evidence of that caller."

"What?" It can't be gone. But...

"The tapes, the transcripts, everything, all wiped out. No copies anywhere. Unless you have one."

I reach into the pocket of my jacket and take out the last tape of the calls between me and Stone. I stare at it.

"Webb, come on. That's our only evidence against this guy. It's all we have. Didn't you bring a tape with you? There's no record of it, but you had to have, right?"

No record. No proof. No evidence.

A test. A promise. An offer.

This could be any of those. But I know that it is something to me from Stone, and that it's my turn in this game.

I put the tape down on the bed next to me.

"I can't be sure," I say carefully. "It's been a hell of a long day. I can't think, here."

"You're not sure?"

"I'm not sure." I use my flattest tone, and it does what it always does: stops the other person from bothering me.

"All right. Check on it and get back to me."

He hangs up, and I put down the phone, then look at the tape. With it gone, there's no evidence of Stone's involvement. No hint of any wrong-doing by Rabb. No case. Nothing.

I keep looking at it. Finally I take a deep breath and pick it up, then go into the bathroom. There, I put it on the floor and step on it, over and over again, until the case is broken into small pieces of black plastic. Ugly. Then I take out the tape itself and cut it into little pieces with a pair of nail scissors someone left behind in a drawer. By the time I'm finished, there's no way anyone could even really know what the hell it was.

I swallow. Destroying evidence. Aiding a criminal. Not that I haven't done them before, but this time I know that I'm going to have to answer to Rabb. To the man who knows just how to make me feel like shit. And who is going to want to. The man whom I have called my conscience, and who is still that.

But I'll manage. Because he'll be alive.

I strip off the rest of my clothes and get into the shower. I have to keep going. I'm not going to be any good tomorrow if I don't.

*****

I'm wishing that I could tell time like Mac does when the light comes back on. I've lost track. I don't even know if it's day or night. All I know is that I'm still here. And that I'm still me, Harmon Rabb, Jr., Commander in the United States Navy. He hasn't taken that away from me. He won't, either.

"Hello, Commander. I do hope you're feeling better."

I don't want to look at him, but I do. He's smiling. Of course. That seems to be so natural for him to do. It means nothing except he's happy, and that may or may not be good for me.

"Commander, you are blessed in your choice of," he pauses, "friends. Mr. Webb is doing even better than I hoped. Relax."

He's certainly relaxed.

"Everything's going beautifully. Everything." He takes a long look at me. "Oh, don't tell me that doesn't make you happy."

Mocking. Always mocking. I'm going to find this guy and put him away. I'll get Webb to help me. Or maybe he's already got a plan going to do that.

Yes, that sounds like Clay, and I can count on him. I know that. I smile back. "Very happy."

"Oh, that is good to hear, Commander. I'm so glad you're finally seeing sense." He pulls out a chair and unfolds it, sits the wrong way, folds his arms against the back and smiles again. "And the tapes are gone. Every single bit of them. I am so good."

He waits. I don't know what the hell he's waiting for, but he is definitely waiting.

"Aren't you going to thank me, Commander?" That damned fucking purring voice. He is so pleased with himself.

"Why?"

"Commander," he croons. "I thought you wanted your career to continue. Shall I make them come back again? But wait, that might upset Mr. Webb, and I'm quite happy with him. And then there's Mr. Palmer's wishes to consider."

Palmer would love to see me thrown out of the Navy for this thing with Webb. But I'm sure as hell not going to tell him that.

"I'm sure that he'd prefer to deal with you himself, that is, if he feels that you need any more education. Probably not, though. You seem incapable of learning too much."

I don't answer that. It doesn't matter what he says, what he thinks, what he does, as long as I get out of here. I'm even beginning to believe again that I will. So Stone's crazy. He thinks he's getting what he wants, and I'm not going to be the one to disillusion him.

"You surprise me, Commander. I thought you'd be protesting."

I shrug. "Maybe you're right. Admiral Chegwidden would certainly agree with you. Probably even Webb."

His shoulders are shaking, and I can tell from the way his mouth is twitching that he's trying not to smile. "Well. Indeed. Thank you, Commander. Perhaps it's time to contact Mr. Webb again. You're beginning to worry me, and I'm not set up to take care of you if you break down entirely."

He finally does smile, and I smile back. I don't care. I don't know what set me free, but something did. I will get out of here. And this asshole won't win. I know it.

I will win. And I'll be with Clay again. Be home. Be safe. Be free.

I have to believe that.

I wonder if I'm really thinking straight any more. I hope so, but if not, what the hell can I do? Nothing. So I watch Stone as he leaves, and don't move from the bed, don't test the electric barrier, just sit and wait.

I need to get out of here. I hope Stone really is going to call Clay.

*****

I'm out of the shower the next morning and half-dressed when my phone rings.

"Webb."

"Mr. Webb. This is Tom Stone. I'd appreciate some time, if you could spare any."

This is different. "Certainly, Mr. Stone," I say carefully.

"Perhaps you'd care to get a pad of paper, Mr. Webb. I have a few things that I'd like you to do, and it's important that you remember them." From someone else, that would be an insult, but the way he says it sounds honestly concerned. "I know you've been under a lot of strain."

"I have been," I say after a moment and reach for the paper the motel provided and my own pen, which I know works. "I appreciate your consideration." If Tom Stone is going to treat me with respect instead of contempt, I'm not going to argue it.

"We're on the same side now, Mr. Webb. I'm not going to do anything to turn you against me."

Is there a way I can use this? No. I have to keep to the plan. His plan. I don't like it, but I have to. To keep Rabb alive.

"I'm ready now." Steady voice. No surprise. I'm good at what I do, and I've had to play a part before. This is nothing new. "You have instructions for me?"

"Yes. If you still want Commander Rabb back."

I want to laugh at that. If I want him back. Life would be a hell of a lot easier if I didn't, if I could say to this Tom Stone that I didn't. But I do. "The instructions?" I don't have to say that I want him back. He knows that.

He starts, and I listen and take notes. It's simple, really. I bring Palmer tonight to the location Stone has chosen, which I'm sure is deserted and without any kind of cover. He'll bring Rabb, and we'll trade. I get Rabb, he gets Palmer. Easy. No one else there, of course. He assures me he'll know. I'm not doubting him. I should have people there, but I won't. Sometimes you have to play by the rules. This is one of those times. Of course, in a way I'm going against the rules that I live by. I should be finding a way to trick Stone, to catch him, to bring Palmer back to Leavenworth, put Stone in with him and Jack, too. I know that. And I know that I can't and I won't.

I should be happy that I'm here on my own. No one to check up on me. Chegwidden's backing to protect me. Not much chance of happiness no matter what happens, but I'll take whatever chance I get. At least Harm will be free. Free to share someone else's bed.

"Is that all?"

"Unless there's something I can do for you, Mr. Webb."

"Let me talk to Rabb." Maybe that isn't the best idea, but it's what I should say. I need to confirm that he's alive.

"He is alive, Mr. Webb. I wouldn't lie to you about that. But if you insist, I'll find a way to get you your proof. If you really need it."

Palmer said I could trust Stone, and so far Palmer's been right. Pushing this won't help. I don't want to piss Stone off. He'd probably take it out on Harm. Rabb, dammit. "I'll see you and Rabb tonight."

"Yes, you will, Mr. Webb. I give you my word. I'll tell the commander that you asked after him."

He hangs up, and I sit there with the phone in my hand for a few breaths, then put it down. Tonight. I've got arrangements to make if I'm going to get Palmer out of Leavenworth, on a plane, and do it without getting any shit from anyone.

*****

Stone again, and he's smiling. I don't say anything. Why bother?

"Well, commander, I spoke with Mr. Webb, and it's settled. Tonight you'll be with him again. I hope you've got some plans to reward him for all his hard work."

I stare and keep quiet, and he leans against the wall and sighs.

"Commander, you really don't need to keep pretending you're not Clayton Webb's lover. I'm happy for the two of you."

I will not admit anything to Stone.

He laughs and slides his hand to his crotch. "If you like, I'll let you practice your thank-yous on me."

The thought of doing anything with him makes my skin crawl, and I can't stop myself from shaking my head in disgust.

He laughs again. "That's right, you only want Mr. Webb. I'll bring you some clothes to put on a little later."

I don't answer, and after a few minutes he goes away.

So Webb made the deal. Let Palmer out. I don't know what to think. I don't want to be here, god knows, but Palmer on the loose is wrong. But what can I do about it now? Nothing. And I really want to get out of here. I hate Stone, and I hate being locked up like an animal.

It'll be good to see Clay again. I miss him.

*****

I get Palmer to the meeting place fifteen minutes early and wait with him in the car. We don't say anything. We haven't said anything in hours. He talked a little on the plane, but I gave him my cold look, and he shut up.

I glance at my watch, then Palmer points to a car coming toward us. "They're here."

"Palmer." He looks at me. "Try anything, and I'll kill you."

"Stone didn't tell you not to bring a gun?"

"He omitted that from his list of conditions." Something I was surprised at, but I wasn't going to question.

Palmer grins. "If you shoot me, Stone will shoot Rabb. But then maybe you don't care about getting him back."

"Maybe I'd just as soon kill you both, even if Rabb ends up dead, too," I say harshly. Where the hell is this coming from?

"You need some rest, Clay. Take it easy for a few days. Tell the CIA to go to hell for a while." He reaches over and squeezes my arm, then lets go. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

We get out of the car, and I watch as two men climb out of the other car. Harm moves slowly. Probably still in pain from the beating he got and whatever Stone's done to him. Palmer stands by my side.

"He'll be all right."

"Like you care," I snap.

Palmer smiles. "Well, yeah. But you do, and you could still fuck this up for me."

I could. Maybe I ought to. But I won't. I keep quiet.

Stone gestures to Harm to walk in front of him, and yes, he does have a gun out, pointing at Harm's back. I think about reaching for mine, but Palmer's already talking.

"Put the gun away, Stone. Mr. Webb's an honorable man, but don't push him."

"Yes, sir." Stone stows the gun in his pants and stops in front of us, with Harm beside him.

Palmer steps forward, and Stone's face brightens.

"Mr. Palmer. I'm so glad to see you again." They shake hands, and I look over at Harm, whose face is tense and angry. I'm not surprised. I'm letting Palmer out. "All right, Mr. Webb, you can take Commander Rabb away now. I'm thoroughly tired of him. Boring. Are you sure you want to keep him? Or perhaps you'd prefer me to train him for you?"

"Tom." The name is a reprimand and a warning. "Sorry, Clay. Stone here just doesn't know when the fuck to leave something alone."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Webb."

I can't believe this guy's apologizing to me, but I nod when Stone looks at me, then at Harm. "Rabb, come on."

"No." He gives me his stubborn look. "Palmer's coming with us, back to Leavenworth, where he belongs."

Goddammit, he doesn't get it, does he? This is all for him, to get him free, and now he's trying to fuck it up. I wonder, and not for the first time, if sleeping with a military officer is worth it. Then I remember some of our times together and know that I'm wrong. It is worth it. Just not easy.

"No, Rabb. All the paperwork's in, and it says I'm a free man." Palmer's voice is almost gentle. "Don't worry; I have no plans to fuck up anything you give a damn about. I don't imagine there will be any reason for us to cross paths again. And Tom will stay away from you, too. Won't you."

It's definitely not a question, and Stone answers immediately. "Yes, sir. Goodbye, Commander."

"Shouldn't be fucking with anything you give a damn about, either, Clay. But if I do, I'm sure you'll come after me."

"Count on it."

He grins, and I see a man I could like, could work with, but there's no way the CIA would take him in, and no way I'd probably be able to trust him in the long run.

Palmer and Stone are turning to go when I hear Harm. "You're just going to let them go." I haven't heard Harm sound this pleading in a long time, and if I didn't know what it was costing him, I might enjoy it.

"It's part of the deal I made." I don't know what else to say. He's staring at me as though I'm making no sense at all.

"You can't have meant to keep it."

This is Harmon Rabb talking? "We'll discuss this later."

He's glaring now. "Like fucking hell we will." He starts after Palmer and Stone, so of course I start after him. "Stop, damn you!"

To my amazement, both Palmer and Stone stop. "What is it, Commander?"

"You are not leaving."

Palmer's eyes flicker to Stone, then to me, then he speaks to Harm. "Rabb, listen to me. You lost. It happens. Go home and do something fun, and I guarantee it won't matter so much in the morning." Palmer's not behaving at all like himself. He actually is talking to Harm. Is this how he gets him? But Harm's listening, a frown on his face. "Go home," Palmer says very softly. "I'll tell you a secret. Winning is getting to go home. In that sense, you have won."

Harm doesn't say anything to that, just tightens his lips and glares.

"Come on, Rabb." This time my voice is very firm, and he takes a step toward the car, but just a step.

"Do you even have a home, Palmer?"

"See how much you've beaten me, Rabb? I don't."

I don't know why Palmer's being so nice to Harm, but I don't trust it. He still likes playing games. I look at him, and he gives me a half-smile. Yes, it's a game, but it might be a game to help me.

"May we leave now, Rabb?"

I expect Rabb to blow up at that one, even though Palmer's tone is reasonably polite, but he just nods.

He doesn't say anything until we're in the car.

"You let him go."

So we're going to have that conversation now. All right. Maybe it won't go as badly as I think it will. I turn the key and start the engine. "Yes." To save you, I add to myself.

"For me."

"For you."

"He's dangerous, Clay." Well, at least he's not calling me Webb. He's turned around in his seat, facing me, and I shut off the engine. No use wasting gas.

"I wasn't the only one in on this, Harm. Chegwidden said to do what it took."

He stares at me, then he slumps against the seat. "I was such an idiot."

What? I reach out, and he lets me put my hand on his.

"Such a fucking idiot." I hate hearing that bitterness in his voice. "Set up, taken, no problem. Cocky beyond belief. He counted on that."

I don't say anything. What the hell can I say? He's probably right, but he doesn't need me saying that, too.

"Can we go home now, Clay?"

His blue eyes are fixed on mine, and I see too much exhaustion in them. "Of course. It won't take too long to get to your place."

"Your place, Clay. I want to go where it's safe." He's turned around and is getting his seat belt on. "If you don't mind."

I start up the car again. I'm not sure I understand this, but it looks like maybe it's not over between us. "I don't mind." I don't mind at all.

"Good." He slumps against the seat and is quiet until we're almost at my place. "Don't expect me to like that he's out."

"I don't like it, either, Harm." I make the last turn. "But it was the price. Sometimes that's how it goes."

"Yeah." He's quiet again until I park the car. "You paid too high a price for me, Clay."

Maybe. But I had to pay it. "I didn't. Come on. You hungry?"

That gets him out of the car. "Starving."

I thought that would work. "I'll call for some take-out."

"You're not going to cook for me?"

I open my mouth to tease him back, but then I realize he's not teasing. He wants me to cook for him.

"I guess I can manage something," I say casually.

He's leaning against the side of my car, his eyes closed. "Thanks."

"Harm. Come on."

I touch his arm, and he opens his eyes. "Didn't sleep too well in there. You'll let me sleep here?"

"Yes." He is tired if he has to ask, but maybe he just needs to hear he's safe. I can understand that. I know I'll feel safer with him here, where I can watch over him all night. Probably end up holding him if he'll let me.

I walk beside him into the house and think about getting him back in the car and going to Langley, but that thought passes. It doesn't matter now. There's no way in hell Stone and Palmer are going to go wherever Stone had Harm. They're professionals. Tomorrow is soon enough to question him. Chegwidden told me to make sure Rabb was all right. There was something in his voice that made me wonder how much he's figured out about me and Harm, but I can trust Chegwidden. He's not going to fuck up either of our careers, and there's no proof, not any more.

I start thinking about what I can make Harm for dinner and let the rest of the world go. It'll come back soon enough.

The End

Posted 3/7/02

JAG

Fiction